Chapter 24: See You in a Few Days

Whoosh!

The crowd was stunned.

Everyone held their heads, staring at the field in disbelief.

Even the fans of Velež Mostar were shocked.

Had they really just scored against a Premier League team?

Even if their opponents were fielding substitutes, the difference in strength was massive!

Still, the goal boosted their morale immensely.

Some even began shouting, "Win the game!"—the goal had clearly lifted their spirits.

On the other side, Zrinjski Mostar's fans were furious about their team's poor defending.

Right then, Suk ran toward their stands.

"Hey! I'm Suk, the Suk of Croatian legend Davor Šuker!"

"If you think I played well, give me some applause!"

Suk turned to show his back proudly.

The Zrinjski fans looked at the boy strangely. Normally, they would have cursed someone like this.

But they had seen his effort. Suk had been key to that goal. Asking for applause wasn't unreasonable.

Still, they weren't in the mood. They just ignored him.

Seeing this, Suk walked off, disappointed.

"They won't even clap for me," he muttered.

Mlinar came over and said, "The fact they didn't curse means they respect you."

He admired Suk's boldness. Some fans might have attacked him.

For most, that was pure provocation.

But they had scored, and Mlinar was thrilled.

Who would've thought a second division team would score first against a Premier League side?

It was perfect.

Meanwhile, on Zrinjski Mostar's bench, coach Vranješ closed his notebook.

He looked at his struggling substitutes and said quietly, "Modrić, Kordić—get ready. It's time to end this farce."

The two stood up silently.

In the 75th minute, Zrinjski Mostar made substitutions.

Their energy improved.

With Modrić on the pitch, the midfield regained structure and control.

From then on, Suk didn't get another pass.

He had to drop deep just to touch the ball, but it changed nothing.

On the other side, Zrinjski's main striker, Kordić, crushed Velež's defense.

Cross after cross came in, and Modrić's long shots added pressure.

In just 10 minutes, they equalized.

Then, in the 88th minute, a long shot from Modrić slipped through the keeper's hands. Kordić used his body to hold his ground and scored the rebound—completing the comeback.

The Zrinjski fans roared with renewed energy.

Suk, however, was downcast.

It wasn't about the draw rewards—he just hated losing.

He was stubborn and hated admitting defeat.

He fought until the end, but with his teammates exhausted, there was nothing he could do.

They lost.

2002/2003 Bosnian Cup: Zrinjski Mostar 2–1 Velež Mostar.

Velež had played brilliantly.

But in the second half, they ran out of steam, and the introduction of Modrić and Kordić sealed their fate.

"Ahhh, I'm exhausted!"

Suk lay on the ground, staring at the clouds.

"The sky is so blue..." he whispered.

They'd lost, and he had to accept it.

He had hoped this performance would leave a mark on Zrinjski Mostar, enough to earn a spot with them.

But in the end, they still lost.

Lying in the grass, with the breeze on his face, Suk quietly took in the moment.

This was the home of a Premier League team. He had been one step away from joining them.

Alas...

"I blew it."

He sighed and was about to get up—when he saw a face staring down at him.

The man had short blond hair, deep eyes, and sharp blue pupils. Suk found him familiar.

It was Vranješ, looking down at the boy who had run nonstop for 90 minutes.

It was hard to believe the energy this kid had.

Suk scrambled to his feet. He recognized the coach.

Still a bit confused, he looked at him.

Vranješ said calmly, "When you get home, ice your legs. Don't eat too much tonight—you might throw up."

Then he added, "Don't forget to stretch. If you don't stretch, you won't grow taller."

Suk stared blankly.

Vranješ nodded. "That's it. See you in a few days."

"Huh?" Suk's eyes widened.

See you in a few days?

Suk jumped up.

"Yes!!!"

Vranješ turned and walked away.

He glanced back, seeing Suk jumping around, and smiled.

"So much energy…"

But when he turned again, his expression darkened.

---

Two weeks later.

The Bosnian Cup was over, but Suk had been in agony.

"A few days" had turned into two weeks.

Wasn't this his chance to join the Premier League?

Surely Vranješ wouldn't joke about something like that?

Every day, Suk waited nervously, losing his appetite.

He even wandered near Zrinjski's training ground, hoping to spot the coach.

If not for the guards, he would've walked in to demand answers.

"What is that coach doing? It's been forever. Did he forget me?"

Suk sat on the grass. Nearby, Modrić juggled a ball.

Seeing Suk's sulking face, Modrić said with a smile, "It won't be long. He's had some trouble lately."

"Trouble?" Suk frowned. "Did he get fired because of that game?"

Although Zrinjski had won, they didn't look good doing it.

If not for Modrić and Kordić's heroics, they might've lost.

Had Suk's performance cost the coach his job?

"Almost, but not quite," Modrić said. "The fans weren't happy, but the club still supports him. Just wait—it won't be long."

Then he added, "The Russian center forward was transferred out."

Suk's eyes lit up. Was this making room for him?

It gave him hope.

"There's no other way but to wait," Suk muttered. "By the way, how's the team doing in the league?"

Modrić glanced at him.

"You haven't joined yet, remember?"

Still, he answered. "One win, one draw, and one loss. We lost 1–2 to Sarajevo last week."

"Again? Why do we always lose to them?" Suk frowned.

Zrinjski was strong, but they always struggled against Sarajevo.

Modrić shrugged. "They've figured out our tactics. We rely on Kordić, but their two center backs are taller and stronger. We sacrifice our wingers to support him, so we lose width and attack."

Then he added, "Don't worry, the coach will call you soon. We're too predictable. You're the change we need. In training, we've been focusing on wing play and dropping center forwards—it's all preparation."

Suk nodded. "What's your weekly salary?"

"Mine?" Modrić replied. "1,500 marks a week."

Suk did a quick calculation.

He didn't expect to earn that much.

He wasn't here for the money—he just wanted to play.

Even 500 marks a week would be enough. That covered his costs.

Besides, Zrinjski offered food and lodging.

He smiled. Soon, he wouldn't have to starve or skip meals anymore.

Now, all he had to do was wait for the call.